figure my heart out / joining

[JUNJI]

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only the last paragraph is important & u dont have to match !!


The life of a captive bird is a life of fear and pain.

It was hard to remember the start of it all. One moment he was floating in humming darkness, the next he sat in a world full of light, and once more he was in the dark. He couldn't remember a time when he was not fixed in one spot with a cold, heavy weight upon his shoulders. The jingling of metal chains each time he moved. A stinging in each new wound marring his lovely form, swollen from the beating that preceded it. All he could recall was that it had always been this way. How long it had been, he did not know, and would not ever know. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was survival and obedience for the man that called himself his father.

He was rebellious in the beginning. A little dove fighting to escape the claws of a cat, only to have his wings shredded beyond repair. There was no escape from this place. The disobedience only brought him more pain. He could not understand what was happening, why he was being tortured so, and no explanation would be given. Only fiery agony as his chest was torn open and dug into, harsh words breathed into his ear. Tears stung in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, before finally, darkness' embrace.

Failure to complete a task led to punishment. He couldn't remember now what he had done or hadn't done to deserve the punishment of broken wings. He remembered the fear tearing at his heart when he faced his father and told him with a shaking voice that he couldn't do what had been asked of him, and the fear clawed deeper at the silence that followed. Tension so thick it could be cut. His legs trembled, vision already blurring with tears as he stared at the ground. Still, the silence continued. He felt as though he might pass out from the terror washing over him.

"Junji." The boy stopped shaking. "Respice ad me."

His gaze remained on the ground for a moment before it lifted. Teal eyes met gold, then the world around him spun. He lay on the ground with a stinging cheek, the smell of blood hitting him a moment later. He hardly had time to gather his thoughts before pain struck his wing; it strained and screamed beneath the pressure, then let out a shrill crack. The little angel howled in agony and flailed out. A heavy paw thrust down on his neck and held him there while teeth further broke and tore into his delicate wings, and once deemed acceptable, he was flipped to his other side and the process was continued with his other feathery appendage.

There were other times. Punishment was not quite as bad, but he would never get used to the pain. The burn of claws digging into his flesh for things he could not control; such a thing was not something he would soon forget. The last time he made the mistake of obedience was not long ago. He had been doing good. He completed his tasks with relative ease, and such set a pleased expression over his father's features. That morning, he was welcomed with a warm breakfast (which he scarfed down with little hesitation) and the collar was removed.

"Oportet me ire," His father rumbled, watching him as he ate. The boy paused and looked up at him in confusion. A smile cracked over his father's lips; the first he had seen in a long time. "Nolite ergo solliciti esse. Ego revertar mox cum donum." Ears perked up at the mention of a gift, though he knew that his father leaving meant he was resigned to the hut until he returned. The promise of a reward for being good was enough to convince him. He would wait.

Hours had passed since his father left. The sun was sitting just over the horizon now, and with each minute, he grew more and more worried. The boy sat on the threshold and stared at the sky through the canopy above him. A quiet breath left him. "Forte pater est nocere..." He whispered. Slowly he rose to his feet, and with anxiety nagging at his stomach, he padded out into the forest.

He was not out for long before he felt his stomach sink. The angel paused his steps and stood frozen for a few moments, before immediately he turned and quickly paced back to the little hut. As he grew closer, the heavier the feeling of dread weighed down on him. He stepped out from the undergrowth and into the clearing in which their house was settled; to his dismay, his father stood at the door, golden gaze boring harshly into him. The boy breathed out shakily and slowly trudged toward him, head lowered and shoulders hunched in shame.

"Ego sum paenitet, pater," He whispered as he came to stop before the ethereal beast. "Ego got sollicitus et abiit quaerunt te..." As he had been in a time before now, he was met with a cold silence. And as before he felt nothing but terror overwhelm him. He should never have gone out. He should have obeyed. He should have been good.

A low, scornful growl left his father. "Ego destituta." The boy shut his eyes and braced himself. His father's paw collided heavily with his side, knocking him into the dirt. He hardly had time to suck in a breath before it was knocked out of him again. Blow after blow beat his head from side to side, blood from a busted lip and a nearly broken nose splashing on the ground and over the pristine white pelt of his father. Only when the boy's arms lifted over his face in surrender did the beating stop. The collar returned to its place locked around his neck, and with a final kick in the stomach, he was left alone. He curled into a ball and lay crying in the dirt for a while.

Two days later his father came to him again. He did not speak. Junji shrank back when he entered the hut, though to his surprise, the collar was removed. He was ushered to follow, and with only a moment's hesitation did he comply. He was unsure of what his father had planned. He never knew what the archangel was thinking, and such scared him horribly. At the very least he seemed to be in a merciful mood. As the little angel stepped through the door and came to stop behind the larger being, his father reached out a paw before him and simply pointed.

Junji gave a confused look, inciting a scoff from the other. "The Typhoon. Vade nunc."

Again, his father was met with confusion, but the angel was too frightened to question it. He slunk forward in the direction the man had pointed to. Before he pushed through the bushes he paused and looked back, eyes wide, then disappeared into the undergrowth. His pace started out slow and cautious, though the further he got from the hut, the faster he went. Even with vision blurred by a swollen cheek and a shoulder aching from a bite he began to run, practically frolicking through the woods as a feeling of freedom filled him.

He was considerably weary by the time he reached the beach. His body ached from the exertion and paranoia nagged at the back of his mind; fearful thoughts telling him it was a trick, a way to test his loyalty, and he had failed. His father would come any moment to retrieve him, and he would never see the light of day again. Junji stopped at the beginning of the railroad tracks and keeled over with heaving breaths, eyes blown wide from the anxiety that held him there. Tears pricked and threatened to fall, salt stinging the swelling of his right eye as some leaked out.

"It's okay," He assured himself. The boy inhaled deeply and composed himself. "Est denique." He straightened up, took another deep breath, and dipped his paws into the shallow water washing over the railroad tracks. He walked on despite his hurting pads; the soft tug of the waves at his ankles was enough to soothe his nerves as he moved, and though his heartbeat quickened some as he drew close to the island, he managed to keep himself relatively calm.

The Typhoon. This must have been it. A beautiful island stretched out before him, with the scents of numerous other creatures drifting on the sea breeze. He was afraid to meet the beings that lived here. What if they attacked him? Killed him? What if they turned him away, or handed him back to his father? Surely they wouldn't do that. Junji stopped as his toes sank into the damp sand of the beach, and wondered for a moment if it was too late to turn back. Find somewhere else. He bit his lip nervously and let out a soft whine as tears once more filled his eyes. It would be okay. He would be okay.

"Salve."

[bubblegum]

[pallid-i]

The strong stench of death arrived as Skeleton Key made his way over, exposed muscle where wool should have been rippling with each step. There was the faint chitterlings as he clacked his jaws together and stared down at the stranger. He heard the name Junji, and he looked at Goldie. She seemed familiar with the male, so there was no need to be hostile, right?

[Luca]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.5; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]Perhaps at one point, Luca may have been considered a captive as well. More like a mouse than a bird; small and timid, picked off the dirty industrial streets by the teeth of something much larger than himself. There was no steel to cage him, nor were there any collars or chains, but he was still a captive in his own right. If he were to leave, surely he would die. He was told that enough times for it to settle firmly into his mind. He would never survive alone on the streets, living among the sinful and the desperate. It was much better in the factory, where he was only hurt if he slacked off or disobeyed. The coal dust that accumulated in his lungs and the scars that appeared one by one along his spine were only a small price to pay. Anything was better than dying cold and alone.

After time, though, he began to doubt that philosophy. Sometimes the beatings were too much, and he would lay there on the cold stone ground and think so hard about pulling himself up and running. But then the prophet would come in and hold him close to his chest. He'd tell him that he was clean now, and he'd brush his paws gently over the thick fur of Luca's back. 'Maybe this isn't so bad,' he would think as he drifted off into an exhausted slumber, and by the time he woke up he would have forgotten all about his desire to run away and live among the homeless. It was too cold to run in the Winter snow anyway. Next Spring. Next Spring. Next Spring.

But next Spring became next Summer, and the cycle repeated. He always had an excuse, something he told himself in an attempt to hide from the fact that he was afraid. 'My legs are too hurt', 'my cough is worse today', 'the Prophet was so nice to me earlier'. Anything except admitting his cowardice. He didn't want to die, not really, and he didn't want his only father figure to be mad at him either. Thing were always so much worse when the Prophet was angry. Besides, there was a beauty in the way things worked around the factory. Over time he came to appreciate the efficiency, the praise, the red.

Ruby flakes cling to his claws now as he makes his way towards the gates, although he doesn't seem to pay them much mind. Left over from a meal perhaps, or maybe something a tad more malicious. It's hard for him to remember, sometimes. He'd found the entrance to the Typhoon rather boring when he had joined himself, although now there seems to be something happening there to draw everyone's attention. His thick tail drags behind him in the sand as he walks, coming up beside Goldie at a leisurely pace. He doesn't give Skeleton Key anything more than a sideways glance. Their first encounter was all it took to dispel any predatory interest Luca had taken in the hybrid. Too rotten, already dead. He only chases after fresh prey.

Fresh, like the new face he can spy in the sand before him. Luca's eyes fall on those of the beaten angel, and for a moment he isn't all too sure how to react. His hackles show the faintest hint of rising, pupils dilating for a reason he can't place his paw on. Those tear-filled eyes captivate him, and for a moment they almost seem to stop him from fixating on those gruesome wounds. But almost isn't quite good enough, and Luca soon finds his eyes drawn to the blood blooming beneath the angel's skin, decorating it in delicate shades of purple and magenta. The scars, the way he holds himself, the smell of fear. All of it is almost too familiar, and his head and heart ache in unison as he struggles to place the identity of this perfect sight. Perhaps he stares for a bit too long, observing the connection of feathers to flesh, tracing every line of this pretty dove's body. He knows he's indulging too much when his mouth begins to water.

He coughs a little, smoke freeing itself from the insides of his lungs, and straightens his back. Junji, he hears Goldenluxury say, and somehow that name feels just right. "Jun... ji," he murmurs as he glances as the bengal next to him, tasting the word on his heavy tongue. It's sweet, clashing with the sour ash that clings to his teeth. He bites his lip and a muffled grunt catches in the back of his throat. Angels were always alluring, but there's something decidedly different about this one. "I'm Luca," He says as he returns his sight to the one before him. His voice is quiet as he speaks, although it catches a bit on the rough edges of his maw, exiting as more serrated than he intends. A single thought hammers in his head like a painful heartbeat, clouding his vision with a haze and causing his lips to fall apart for a shaky exhale.

I need you to be mine.

[JUNJI]

[align=center][div style="width: 600px; padding: 10px; height: auto; overflow: auto;"][div style="width: 550px; padding: 0px; line-height: 13px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]The angel had never known death or grief. In his own way perhaps, he had grieved each day that passed in the remote hut he had called home until that day. The dread that consumed him when his eyes met those of his father's; it was a horrible pain that grasped at his heart and tore, unrelenting, until the agony of claws in his pelt drowned it out. He did not remember a life before this one; he did not remember the friends he had, the role he played. There was nothing left of him.

He had never known the love of a mother, nor the strong, warm embrace of a father. There had been times that Junji had dreamed of escaping. He had dreamed of being free of the collar and chains, and had dreamed of being free from the horrible gaze of his father that always seemed to burn into him. Eyes from all sides watching him, and claws unsheathed and ready to strike should he make any mistake. His whole life, he had only known fear. The boy had hoped that the freedom of running through the woods and feeling the ocean wash over his paws would cover the fear that followed him. He hoped, but it did not happen.

Dull eyes slowly settled on the figure approaching him, snapping out of the thoughts that had entranced him. His first reaction was to back up. His hind paws dipped into the water again as she drew near, gaze dropping to the ground and ears flattening to his head. The angel breathed out somewhat shakily at the return of her greeting; a soft hello, and yet despite the gentleness of her voice, he found himself on the brink of tears. Junji trembled slightly before her, and his heart leaped into his throat when she said his name. His gaze snapped up to meet hers, a look of fear and disbelief glinting in his teary eyes.

"Quam operor vos scire nomen meum?" He choked out, shrinking back even more as tears began to roll down his cheeks. "Fecit pater dico vobis? Is... is he here?" He managed to spit out some of her language in the midst of his frightened rambles, her initial question completely forgotten. The arrival of two others did nothing to soothe his nerves; he stepped deeper into the water as the smell of death from one washed over him, fur bristling in fear.

Junji shook horribly now. He struggled to breathe, nearly on the verge of hyperventilating, though his frantic breaths all but ceased when his blurred gaze settled on Luca. He was being stared at, he knew that much, but his trembling seemed to stop for a moment. He simply let the other scrutinize him, and only when the other stopped did the world begin to move again. The boy resumed his shaking and couldn't help the bitterness that clawed at him when his name was tasted on the other's tongue, followed by another name.

Luca.

He'd heard that somewhere. He stared back at him, swallowing the lump in his throat. Manere a Luca. The phrase his father had told him time and time again. Before he left some days, and as Junji drifted off to sleep. It had been burned into his mind, but for what reason, he did not know. He had never known a Luca before now, and though this one before him was certainly intimidating, he couldn't help but wonder what it was about this creature that his father wanted him to avoid. Perhaps he had met his father, and they were on bad terms. Perhaps he was just an awful, awful thing that plagued the world with his existence. Junji furrowed his brow slightly as he stared, before ultimately dropping his gaze once more to the sand. He would find out in time. For now, he must obey his father.

"...Typhoon?" He finally murmured. "Pater dictum est mihi ut veniat."